During dinner last night, Grandmother took the pot of vegetable soup she makes for herself and, for some odd goddamn reason, put coffee creamer in it. She later added salt and, maybe, tried to act as if she meant to do that.

That's not necessarily what worries me about Grandmother. What worries me is that later during dinner she asked me if I had fixed the phones. Not only did I tell her fixed the phones about an hour earlier, she had asked me if I had fixed the phones already. Also, she asked me if she bought pork when we went to the grocery store yesterday afternoon. She had already asked me if she did earlier in the evening.

When Grandmother took out the pot of soup out to the dining table, My Fucking Father had a look of such outrageous and gross indignation on his face it would be funny if it weren't so sad.

I felt like I needed to simmer down the tension in the room and to help with Grandmother. After cleaning the table I walked her over to her room and made her take a nap with me.

My God, this is so painful.